


Uprising

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Betrayal, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Conspiracy, F/M, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Resistance, Underground Movement, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-08-21 03:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one big mess. It happened after I listened to the album "Resistance" by Muse.  
> It's partly inspired by that, partly by the book 1984, partly by various conspiracies and underground movements.
> 
> It's not a happy story.  
> It takes place in Croatia in the time of unnamed war and unnamed tyranny, but the whole thing is mostly inspired by the Czech(oslovakian) resistance during the WWII (check out the Anthropoid story, and watch the movie if you can! It's worth it!); therefore it somehow takes place in the 1940's in an alternative universe (? if that makes sense).

Ivan liked this place for obvious reasons, it was easy to reach, hard to find, small, cozy, with just the basic furnishing, offering at least three different ways to escape; therefore it was by far the safest place for their meetings. He was the last one to arrive, as usual - at first, he made sure nobody is following him, then he entered the other building, went straight to the inner courtyard and then turned left, and got to the door that was connecting all the neighboring rowhouses together as a secret passage. There was nothing secret about that door but Ivan always felt better coming through this detour than going straight to the right building; Luka taught him this, he was the one who always thought ten moves ahead. _What if anyone follows you? What if they come to arrest you? Give them a false clue, give the guys who are waiting inside for you at least a slightest chance to escape_. He remembered these words and decided to follow them since Luka was the head of their circle of friends and somewhat of a natural leader.

Well, at least when it came to the strategy and planning. The guys always joked that Luka was the head, while Zlatko was the spirit and he himself the heart of their group but he never saw it in such an easy way. Yes, Luka's mind was incomparable, and yes, Dalić's arrival from abroad boosted up everyone's spirit, not only because he was a respected and experienced hero of the fallen regime but mostly because he brought the news that everyone's been waiting for - _the foreign governments are ready to help in the case of need_. Dalić, who became an inconvenient person for the new regime after the coup in his homeland, escaped the country to become a key person in the exile government. By staying in the shadows and not holding any official position while starting a whole network of powerful allies, he became the perfect person for getting in contact with the home resistance; the peak of this work was being sent back home in secret, not only to bring order into the chaotic and crumbling home opposition but also to bring the official statements, words of support - and a transmitter, the only way to fully renew contact between the exile and home. Ivan couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Zlatko Dalić standing in the basement of one of the houses their small group usually met in, and he couldn't believe his ears either later that night when Dalić talked about his way across half of Europe. It all sounded like a suicide mission but there he was, smiling and in clean clothes, in his signature white shirt and a black pullover as if he's just come home from a nine-to-five job. 

 Dalić's arrival also brought some complications. Since he could easily get recognized on the street (and Ivan still couldn't believe how the hell he got back to Zagreb without being caught in the first place, he simply couldn't believe Zlatko's story about a blonde wig and a false mustache), their group had to start meeting up in all privacy, only in their own homes and houses, at least when there were all of them. The only other possibility was an abandoned train station, which Ivan both loved and hated - it was always nice to meet in an open area and fresh air for once, after all the claustrophobic rooms, and the possibilities of running away from such place were almost endless, while at the same time it was hard to keep an eye on all the sides without knowing when or where a group of policemen or armed militiamen could appear. It was hard to maintain order and actually discuss anything during those outdoor meetings at the run-down train station, there always had to be at least two of them, keeping an eye on the surroundings and guarding the rest of the group.

Dalić couldn't do that, you don't let such a respected person stand on guard.

Luka couldn't do that, without him, planning anything was impossible. 

He _would_ do that, but Luka never wanted him to, saying he needs him as his right-hand man.

Sending Lovren to stand on guard meant sending Vrsaljko with him since they were inseparable - and having them two as guards was almost worse than having none. 

Nikola never wanted to do that, and he always made a fuss about standing somewhere in the bushes and watching out for the possible danger coming from an empty road instead of doing the real mind work with the others; he found it _degrading_. 

Mario would be bored there, which wasn't particularly good, and Domo would take a bottle of wine with him, which was even worse. Ivan had to smile when remembering Domagoj - and he was sure that Vida would bring some wine tonight as well. He always had this feeling that Domagoj didn't take this all seriously - and Ivan couldn't help it but see him as the kind of a child-like character of their group; he wasn't even the youngest of them, but something in him and his character made him regarded as kind of an everyone's younger brother, the one who is nice and loveable even though sometimes silly or downright stupid. Ivan has just recently actually found out who Domo reminded him of - Gavroche from Les Misérables; he saw the movie sometime before the war, before the coup, before everything went to shit. They were not playing such movies in cinemas anymore but Ivan promised to himself to read the book as well; but when he tried looking for it, he didn't succeed. Now he was too busy dealing with his own group of _Les Amis de l'ABC_ \- and the image of Domagoj as a Croatian modern day Gavroche somehow stuck with him.

All in all, Danijel was the only one responsible and devoted to the cause enough to guard them every time but the more and more detailed their plans were and the more sabotages they organized and performed, the less willing they all were to ramble the streets and risk any inconveniences.

 He finally arrived in the right building through his detour and ran up the stairs into the first floor, knocking at the third door on the corridor in their own prearranged manner.

 A voice came from inside. " _Yes_?"

" _Remember Čarli_?"

 _Remember Čarli_ became a mantra, a greeting, a motto to remember, and Ivan was sure if they were to make an official badge for the members of the resistance, those two words would be engraved there. At first, after Čorluka's death, they started using it as a spiritual boost, instead of a prayer, as yet another reason to continue their fight. Remembering Čarli meant remembering the first casualty of their activities, the first fallen soldier of their movement. Čarli died after a shootout with the police who came to his meeting with one of his contacts, who, as time showed later, practically sold him to them, thankfully not knowing the whole story behind the resistance. Otherwise, the policemen would do their best to get Vedran alive - and that was always the worst possibility of them all. And so, Čarli died, outnumbered and fighting, and while this first loss was a stroke of reality, it also gave them a martyr whose reminiscence lived in the form of the phrase _Remember Čarli_. Saying it at the door was partly a greeting, partly a secret code - they all liked the cheeky ambiguity of it since it sounded like someone called Čarli came for a visit after a very long time, not sure if anyone behind the door remembers him.

The door cracked open; there was Dejan behind it. "Late as usual," he grinned, letting him in.

Ivan sneered and hugged his friend quickly before closing the door. "Is everyone here?"

"Naturally."

"Good." Ivan undid the first two buttons of his coat as he walked quickly through the narrow hallway, leaving Dejan behind. He checked the time - ten minutes. It's not that bad. He knew Luka would frown and shake his head in disbelief - and he also knew Luka wouldn't stay mad for long.

He paced to the end of the corridor - there was a well-sized room with a table for six that could easily turn into a headquarters in case of need. All the guys were in there already, as Dejan has said - Dalić in a dark grey suit, with hands casually in his pockets, listening to Luka who was standing next to him, apparently trying to explain something as he had his usual concentrated frown on his face. Nikola, Danijel, and Mario were forming another group, a quiet and decent one, in the complete contrast to them. Šime with Domo were chatting wholeheartedly, leaning back against the kitchen counter - as Ivan rightly assumed, there were some bottles of wine standing on it; but he could as well smell coffee - coffee was yet another great thing that Dalić brought, as if it all the other stuff wasn't enough, so now they could drink it freely without having to turn to cheap and available substitutes.

The smell of coffee and the sight of his friends gathered in the room made him smile wearily.

"Thank God," Luka said as soon as he spotted him, interrupting his discussion with Zlatko. "Dejan? Turn on the radio."

They didn't give a damn about the propagandistic broadcast, but the sound was important to give their talks at least some cover.

Luka walked to the table and everyone followed his example; the chairs were scattered all around it, the basic premise was to sit or stand anywhere, just to be close to hear everything. Danijel got up to draw the curtains; this was his place after all, although recently it served as a dormitory for anyone who needed to stay there, coming from near and far alike. The only official inhabitant was still Danijel Subašić, his name was on the doorbell and he was the one making sure his neighbors don't suspect a thing.

"I'm going to write down two names and addresses for each of you," Luka started directly without beating around the bush. "And I want you all to remember the two things, to learn it before we go our separate ways, alright? These are the people we need to find in the next week. At least some of them. You need to learn the names and addresses because I'll burn the papers, alright?"

The all muttered approvingly.

"Good. Do we still have the candle?"

"Yes," Danijel nodded. "I'll get it."

He brought a cheap, pillar candle which has been used the last time for the same procedure of getting rid of evidence; and lit it immediately. It was always better to be ready.

Ivan yawned, the flickering and soft light was making him more tired than he already was, and Luka's eyes darted towards him instantly.

"Go get some coffee, Ivan. At once," he spoke, gazing at him, and despite the commanding tone of his voice, there was nothing but care in his face. "I mean it."

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ivan? Do you have a moment?"

Ivan put his suitcase back down and turned to Luka. "Yes?"

Luka gestured to tell him to come closer as the last guys were leaving the room. They always had to leave the meetings one after another to not attract any unwanted attention. 

"Good luck in Zadar - and goodnight!" he called quietly to Šime who just showed thumbs up in response and walked out. Danijel understood Luka's intention and left the room with him, closing the door.

"What's the matter?" Ivan asked when they were left completely alone.

"I need to talk to you."

 "What is it about?"

Luka sighed and went to turn off the light. Then, he stumbled across the room in the dark, seeing only the silhouettes of all the things, until he came to Ivan and took him by his elbow. "I have some bad news." He walked towards the window, forcing Ivan to do the same. 

"Bad news?" Ivan repeated, frowning and trying to read Luka's face in the dark.

Luka nodded, drawing the curtains. "There are some problems in the south. The paratroops that were supposed to land there - I got a message from Split. There are only four of them left."

Ivan rubbed his eyes with one hand. "What went wrong?"

"As it seems - _everything_. One group seems to have tried to contact the wrong people - and they caused alarm. The police turned Split upside down and of course, they found them in the end. That's all we know."

"So - ?"

 _"_ They might be alive. Who knows? They might have told everything they knew. Thank God they probably didn't have much information." He turned away to fix the curtain and something outside caught his attention because he froze at that moment, ever his breathing stopped at once.

Ivan crouched automatically. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Luka whispered. "Don't worry." His warm, soft hand touched Ivan's again. "I'm just being paranoid."

 "Did you see anything?"

"That was just Dejan with Šime - down on the street - and I thought these people behind them were following them but - it's okay."

 "Good." He exhaled calmly and couldn't help but let out a grateful laugh. "I'm glad you didn't try to separate them."

"Why would I do that?" Luka shook his head. "They work better together."

"I meant - " He made a pause that spoke for million words. " - you know, because of their personal - _you know_."

"That would be very hypocritical of me, don't you think?" Luka smirked, reaching in his pocket for a package of cigarettes, the foreign, good ones. "Especially when I keep you here with me as my _aide-de-camp_." He took one cigarette out and set it between his lips. "But I needed to tell you something else," he mumbled, focusing on not letting it fall out as he looked for a lighter. Ivan was quick to offer a helping hand; he made three steps to the table and grabbed the lighter they used for lighting up the candle and burning the incriminating papers; he was back within a few seconds and lit the cigarette for Luka. Luka inhaled the smoke and his eyes smiled at Ivan gratefully before he blew it out with a silent "Thank you". Then he offered the pack to him. "Do you want one as well?"

Ivan shook his head and refused the pack, he reached for Luka's own cigarette instead and took it delicately between his fingers. "Only this one."

He took one puff as well and carefully blew the smoke to the side, not to Luka's face. "Well? What is the big secret?"

 "I need to go to Split."

"Because of the paratroops?"

"Because the people there are scared."

"And you - _just you alone_ \- can help with that?"

Luka shrugged, taking the shared cigarette back. "I got a phone call from Bradarić. Not a nice one. He's desperate - our people there have this feeling that we in Zagreb don't give a damn about them. They feel alone. The paratroops were supposed to bring guns, transmitter; to assist with the sabotages - and it's all gone to hell."

"It can't be that bad."

"You think so?" Luka took another decisive drag of his cigarette. "Listen - four groups of three. That's twelve guys. Or boys. They're all twenty, twenty-two. And there are four of them actually in Split now. Who knows if that's even true anymore. All the groups had terrible instructions, they were landed in different places than planned, they got lost, didn't meet the right people, they got caught trying to hide their parachutes... Shall I go on?"

 "No, no, you don't - "

"Can you imagine how frightening it must be?" he asked, tapping the ashes on the windowsill. "Knowing eleven other guys for some time, being friends with them and then - you get separated into smaller groups, each in their own plane with their own code name and task - and when you're finally back down, in your homeland, you only get to learn that the others didn't survive this?" 

Ivan stood in awe, struck by the impassive tone of his voice.

"And then," Luka continued after inhaling some more smoke, "you are supposed to go on with your life as if nothing has happened. As if you've never even known those guys. Can you imagine?"

"No I can't - and I don't want to!" He desperately grabbed Luka's hand, wrenched the cigarette from between his fingers and put it down, pressing it roughly against the windowsill. "Is this how you want to make me go to Split with you?" he asked, holding onto Luka's hand.

"No, it's not," Luka smiled with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I need to go alone. To not cause any alarm. I have all the papers, false documents, working pass - I need you to stay here."

Ivan couldn't believe his ears; he stared at the smaller man speechless for a couple of seconds before he took enough courage to ask: "Why can't I go with you?"

"Ivan," Luka started softly. "I need you to be here when I'm gone. And if anything was to happen to me - you need to be here for the guys."

He had to bit his lip to stop the angered cry he felt he needed to let out. "Don't speak of that," he warned Luka desperately. "For the love of God - don't ever mention _that_."

Luka smiled sadly, pressing his palm against Ivan's chest where the racing heart was beating so loudly it somehow disturbed the quiet atmosphere of the darkened room. "Let's be realistic. Please. We all knew what we got ourselves into. I'm not mentioning this to upset you - it's just a possible turn of events."

"Luka, please," Ivan exhaled in a broken voice, grabbing Luka's head between his hands. "Stop. I don't want to hear this. I don't want to let you go - you can't go alone! Take someone with you, please - don't put yourself in danger _just because_."

"The more people go, the more dangerous it gets. And if someone should die, let's not increase the numbers, alright? I can take care of myself. If anything happens to me, you have the full control."

"I don't want any of that - no, Luka, listen to me! I wouldn't survive if anything was to happen to you." His hands stroked Luka's cheeks with much stronger effort than he intended to but the possessive manner of his touches could not be hidden. "I need you to live. The whole resistance needs you to live to lead us - but I need you to live - because of me." His fingers dug into Luka's fast growing hair. "I know I'm being selfish. I can't help it."

"I don't blame you." He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant feeling of Ivan's fingers rubbing against his skull. "I'll try my best to come back." He smiled, opening his eyes again. "Just to see you again."

"Promise it."

"I promise."

The air felt so heavy it was unable to escape the magic of the moment; Ivan's whole world was turned into one selfish wish - to kiss Luka's beautifully shaped lips.

And he did.

"Think of me when you're away," he breathed against Luka's skin after the tender kiss.

"I will. I'll call in here, next Monday, exactly at noon. If everything is alright."

"I'll be waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

Lovren was not a calm person. He always knew that. All the people around him always kept on reminding him to stay cool and not care about certain things that made him mad. _Let it go, Dejan. Leave it be. Don't waste your time fighting people. It's not worth it. Focus on the good things. Be calm_.

That was something he never knew. 

 There was a burning fire in him and he couldn't sit on his ass all day, doing nothing, he couldn't let the time fly by, he couldn't keep his mouth shut when the first troubles started to appear in his hometown. That was the main reason he left. He got into a very complicated situation, involving his family's neighbors, those who were the first ones to support the rising political star of a soon-to-be Leader. There was some arguing, some fights, the damage has been done - his mom pleaded him with teary eyes to just think about his future. _Dejan, please, you can't talk to them like that, Mr. Kasumović has a brother on the Ministry of Justice, don't turn him against us, Dejan, be sensible, learn how to keep your mouth shut for onc_ e - 

He decided to leave. It felt better for everyone. Of course, his mother cried and his father talked about how irresponsible and unpatriotic it was to leave the hometown but he felt like he was going to choke there, sooner or later, surrounded by the same people who started hanging The Leader's pictures in the shop windows. He soon realized this disease spread into all parts of the land, it even reached the capital before him. The official portraits hung everywhere, they were printed in the papers almost daily and he started to hate that face with the same passion he always felt for things he either loved or hated so much.

 He strived for something in his life - something that would balance out the cold and emotionless surrounding he got into in the new city where he didn't even know anyone - he was hungry for some opportunity, for a chance to do something, for the beginning of his own independent story. And so it has begun, with a job at a chemical plant where he managed to join a group of potential daredevils who started sabotaging the whole working process - and this led him straight to the arms of the newly forming underground movement, or more precisely, straight into the arms of Šime Vrsaljko, the guy from the outside, responsible for planning the sabotages, and also the guy with the most beautiful eyes and laugh he's ever seen. It wasn't long before this particular group got revealed and Dejan soon found he became a wanted person because of his sabotages at the plant. He couldn't return back home. And that was when Vrsaljko saved his ass - by offering him to live with him.

And he accepted.

He had to smile to himself when he remembered how uncertain he was about it at first.

 Now, there was no better feeling known to him than opening his eyes in the morning and seeing the curly-headed man laying next to him, the black curls in a perfect contrast to the white pillow underneath.

 Just looking at the peaceful angelic face made him realize how different he felt now - there was no fire in him eating him alive from the inside, no anger, no urge to fight or scream - he was perfectly fine. Šime was the water for his fire, not really personality-wise, but he had something inside him that soothed Dejan to the point he could imagine spending the rest of his life like this, laying in a bed, with Šime by his side.

He smiled and rolled on his side to be able to watch what seemed to be the epitome of beauty; pale skin, long lashes of the closed eyes, and a soft shortly cut beard.

Šime was somehow aware of being stared at, there was no other way to explain the cutest sound he made as he rolled onto his back and parted his lips.

That was too much of an invitation.

Dejan leaned over him, supporting himself on his elbows as he pressed his lips on Šime's. 

"Good morning," he whispered, watching Šime waking up - furrowing his brows, moving his head and then slowly opening his eyes, looking dazed and confused at first as he came to himself and started realizing where and in what situation he was.

" _Morning_ ," Dejan repeated before kissing him for the second time.

Šime's eyes found his at last, and he smiled in the most beautiful way. "Good morning," he mumbled before yawning and covering his mouth lazily.

"We should get up," Dejan whispered, reaching to stroke Šime's irresistible hair locks. It was hardly dawning outside but Dejan knew they had to get out of this place as soon as possible and get into Šime's car - _as quietly as possible_ \- to leave the town and get to Zadar without any troubles - _if_ possible. There was still so much to do - pack their bags, get their guns ready and inform Rakitić they're actually leaving. It was so hard to stay responsible with Šime smiling at him with that self-assured look in his face.

 _Well_ , Dejan thought, _Zadar will still be there in fifteen minutes_.

 

 

 Ivan was tapping his fingers on the table nervously, unable to stop.

"Jesus Christ, calm down a bit," Danijel told him angrily. "You're making _me_ nervous."

 "He should have called like ten minutes ago!"

"If he said _at noon_ he probably meant _sometime between eleven and one o'clock_."

"He's always so precise - I can't believe he would just miss the right time, or even forget - "

"He probably has more important issues to solve - Just deal with it!"

Ivan has always admired Danijel for his ability to keep cool even during the most stressful situation but now for once, he wasn't particularly happy with the things he's been saying.

" _Deal with it_?" he repeated dumbly. 

"Yes! Bite the bullet, focus on what you're supposed to do in here."

"I'm not supposed to - I guess all I need to do is to wait for him to come back?"

"That's what you think," Danijel sneered.

 "What?"

"Well, what do you think that he does all the days?"

"I don't know - just waits for some people to call him or hand him the messages?"

Danijel patted his shoulder, laughing. "Oh, how little you know him."

 It was just a friendly talk and Ivan was sure Danijel didn't mean it in any bad way, but his words hurt him a little, especially when it sounded like he was just some kind of a useless substitute for Luka Modrić - and that Luka chose him over anyone else based on personal relationship and not his ability to lead the group. He was ready to complain or even argue if necessary but the phone rang at the moment he took a deep breath. He forgot all his feelings of underappreciation and grabbed the phone as fast as he could.

 "Hello?"

" _Hello. You have a long-distance call from Split. Putting you through_ ," a woman's voice announced on the other side. He looked at Danijel who took a seat opposite of him and mouthed the word " _Luka_ " to him. 

 " _Hey. Sorry I'm late - I didn't get to the phone earlier_."

 "That's alright. How is everything going?"

 " _Good, good. Just as good as it can be. Listen - I'll be back on Thursday, right? In the evening_."

"Yes." He knew what it meant - _get all the guys together for Thursday night_.

" _Good. Now tell me - how is Dinamo playing_?"

He smiled, getting it. Football was yet another shared passion of the whole group, and they loved using it as kind of a cover for their own group. "Very well, actually. I can't complain. It seems like the guys all know their position well and they're able to do what you would expect - "

" _Great. I hope they will stay in shape for the next challenges."_

 _"_ Me too _."_

_"Well, I gotta go. Don't stay up late and don't worry about me, okay?"_

"Sure," he laughed, forgetting for a moment that Danijel was watching him with amusement. "Thank you for calling. Take care."

" _Bye_."

He put the phone down and sighed but this time, there was no dread in that sound. 

"He'll be back on Thursday," he answered the question that Danijel didn't even have to ask.

Danijel nodded. "We should probably tell the others."

"Dejan and Šime will stop by my place when they come back from Zadar, so I'll tell them. Can you get Dalić and Nikola? I'll pay a visit to the Vida household," he added jokingly. _The Vida household_ was actually a one-room apartment shared by Vida and Mandžukić, the least compatible pair of all.

"Sure. Thursday evening?"

"Yes. Here?"

Danijel shrugged. "I wouldn't risk it anywhere else now."

"Good."

 

 

 Ivan was awakened by a hasty knocking at his door in the middle of the night - he reached for the loaded gun on his nightstand and held it carefully down as he walked to the door with a precisely silent footsteps.

 "Ivan? It's Suba here, open the door."

 Danijel was wearing a terribly big hat that got almost all of his face covered, and he looked almost identical to those guys who knock at the doors of selected apartments just for the inhabitants to never be seen again. 

"What the hell is wrong?" he asked quietly, hiding the gun behind his back and letting him in. 

"Nikola's not at home. Not even now. I went there in the afternoon, nothing. In the evening - nothing. I tried it now - nothing."

Ivan yawned, closing the door behind his stressed friend and put the gun down on the drawer. "So what? Maybe he stayed with that...girl of his, at her place, you know?"

"Ivan, he's not supposed to stay anywhere else overnight. Or if he has to, he needs to inform you so that we know where to look for him in the case of need. Or at least leave a message or something on the door or - I don't know - anything, really, so that we can always know where he is."

"What do you mean? You think that - "

"I don't think _anything_. I only think that it's important for you to know that."

"But - maybe he really just forgot or - are you sure he's not there?"

"I am," he insisted.

"Maybe he - just went out for a while - I mean, you're not at your place right now as well."

"But I'm with you! Nobody's seen Nikola since the last meeting - I asked them."

"But what does it mean?"

Danijel shrugged, though his face had the kind of expression that made Ivan realize he might have some idea.

"Do you think they got him?" he asked.

 "I don't know."

"But do you think - how would we know?"

"Just from the newspapers - or the radio, maybe, if they knew more - Or the list of the executed," he added.

It sent shivers down Ivan's spine. "Listen - I think we're just overreacting here. I'm sure he's just with his girl. Try it again tomorrow, okay? But carefully, alright? If anything's suspicious, just get out of there. If the police really got him, they won't like you hanging around his place. I really hope he's alright."

"I really hope he's just ignoring the rules."

 

 

Subašić did as he was told the other day, he visited the same house as the day before, knocking at the door of Kalinić's apartment furiously for at least five minutes without any use. _Where the fuck are you, Nikola?_

He walked through the hall, up and down the stairs, and didn't meet a single person, the house looked empty and the absence of any signs of life just added to Danijel's own desperation. _Come on, Nikola. No message left? No hints of you ever being here?_ He got back to the door again and knocked with much greater vigor than before.

"Are you looking for someone?"

He froze, feeling his heartbeat in his throat as if he was about to throw up his own heart but when he turned around, he saw an old lady with a flowery scarf on her head, looking at him from the staircase she was slowly descending, carefully holding onto the railing.

"Yes - actually, yes." He was so exhausted and thankful for at least some response to his pointless banging at the door that he just smiled wearily and said: "Nikola Kalinić. Young, tall, dark-haired -  He should live here."

The face of the woman changed as soon as she heard the name. "Kalinić? Yes, he lives here," she said coldly.

"Have you seen him lately?"

She shrugged, looking offended by such question. "Are you here to interrogate me?"

"No, I'm sorry - I just don't know where he could be."

"Well, I don't know that either. We're not friends."

Danijel smirked wearily, understanding that there's no point in going on with this conversation. "I'm sorry I bothered you," he said, coming to the stairs. "Have a nice day."

He left the building, taking a deep breath of the cool air.

_Damn you, Kalinić, wherever you are._


	4. Chapter 4

Having the full responsibility was something Ivan took as a challenge and he was thankful that it didn't happen often. He much preferred being the right-hand man, the aide-de-camp, as Luka joked, watching Modrić, in his eyes the most capable person in the world, do the job. Being in charge of their group was filling him with fear - the fear of responsibility for the possible mistakes but most importantly, the fear of leading the men the wrong path.

Or losing someone.

He didn't know how it would happen but he was sure it could.

One way or another.

As far as he knew, only Dalić was in the danger of being recognized on the street and then possibly arrested as a person linked with the previous government, whose members disappeared soon after the coup.

As far as he knew, it was only Dejan who was actually a wanted person, a criminal, gaining this status for his previous sabotages at the chemical plant. It would be better for him to stay hidden and not stroll around the streets in broad daylight - Luka tried to explain to him that he'll be more useful for the resistance if he stays alive than dead, Dejan, however, refused to take even a step back, saying something like "if these fuckers want me dead, they'll find me anywhere". Ironically, as he threw himself into all different kinds of dangerous situations, he never seemed to encounter any troubles at all. 

And now Nikola. A disappearance - and no clue or hint left behind. Where was he? If they got him, they would probably spread it all over the news - well, at least if they learned which organization he is part of. But why would they want him otherwise? Maybe he got arrested during a regular check-up or identification on the street, who knows, maybe he tried to commit a sabotage all on his own, do something daring, and he failed. The uncertainty was killing him. He needed Luka to come back more than before. In the case of missing Kalinić, he was lost. Waiting for his return, or, in the worst case, for a message about the death of "one of the leading members of the illegal underground movement", as they would probably call him in the newspapers and radio, seemed wrong as if it wasn't enough.  _What else what there to do_? 

 He didn't talk to Luka since the phone call but he tried to imagine all the possible ways of telling him that nobody knows where Nikola is. It wasn't an easy task. He definitely didn't look forward to disappointing him.

In the end, everything took a different route. When Luka came to Danijel's apartment on Thursday evening as they agreed, saying the usual  _Remember Čarli_  password at the door, he was scowling, and his gloomy expression seemed to immediately alert everyone who was already in the kitchen, gathered around the table.

 "Where the hell is Nikola?"

Ivan could feel his heart racing and it was as if Luka was asking him directly. His cold voice cut much sharper than yelling would.

" _Not here_ , obviously," Domagoj laughed nervously. 

"He disappeared," Ivan managed to mutter, looking at the ground.

"How _disappeared_?" Luka hissed, reaching in his pocket for some paper. "He left me this message, slipped under the door. I found it today when I arrived." He shoved the paper right in front of Ivan's face as if he wanted him to read it. "He thinks the police is after him and says he doesn't feel safe in his home anymore." He took the paper back, not actually letting Ivan read through the messy handwriting.

"But why?" Danijel asked. "Why would _he_ be in danger? He's barely even done anything illegal - so far he's been only keeping the contact with the workers in the factories and that's what Šime does as well - "

Vrsaljsko shrugged while Dejan took him protectively around his shoulders. "Do _you_ feel safe, ljubavi?"

A short laugh with a sad undertone bubbled from Šime's throat. "As long as you're here - "

"We're dealing with a serious problem," Luka raised his voice, making them both stop. "Has any of you spoke to Nikola after our last meeting?"

They all shook their heads in silence.

"He writes," Luka looked at the paper again, "that his brother is in danger and that he wants to help him hide somewhere in the countryside."

"He shouldn't be in any close contact with - " Dalić didn't dare to finish the sentence. He himself has experienced this pain in its full meaning - since he returned to Croatia in secret, he wasn't allowed to contact his family, his own brother as well as his old parents who, probably thanks to their age and non-involvement with politics, lived on unbothered by the regime.

" - with his family, I know," Luka nodded, looking at the letter pensively. "Especially if his brother could be arrested and - It's better not to think about that."

"Well, and what else did he write?"

"That he feels like he has to leave the city for some time, to help his brother, to get his own life together - "

"What the fuck does he thinks he's doing?" Mario's passionate outburst was accompanied by a lively gesture of his hands that he so far had clenched on the table. "He can't just pack his bags and leave whenever he feels like it!"

"Hold on, Mario - he also wrote he can't see us all or come to our meetings since he doesn't know whether someone might be after him - but since he knows our most important contacts, he needs to tell us their names, or give us the written list, whatever - so he suggests a private meeting."

 "A private meeting?" Mario sneered in disbelief. "Just because he shat his pants? I bet he's hiding at his girlfriend's place anyway."

"That wouldn't be very clever," Zlatko pointed out and Mario just shrugged.

"He's never been the brightest one."

Luka's frown grew darker. " _Mandžo_. _Stop_. Talking shit about him won't get us anywhere. He writes he's gonna be out of town for a few days and then try to come back and if it's possible, he'd like to meet up with someone from our group in a place where it shouldn't be dangerous or suspicious. He suggests Zrinjevac, by the gazebo, around three in the afternoon on Saturday; says he'll try to be there somewhere, waiting." Luka folded the letter carefully and put it back in his pocket. "How does that sound?"

 His eyes darted around the room, looking for someone to express their opinion. It was Dalić who cleared his throat as the first one. "Alright. I can understand his wish to help his family - but did he have to disappear all of sudden like that?"

 "You cannot choose when the time comes that someone needs help," Ivan said, looking at Luka with a silent wish that he would as well understand this compassion he felt as he tried to imagine himself in a situation where he'd be forced to leave everything all of sudden to help someone dear and close to him, be it his parents, his brother... _or_ _Luka himself_.

"I know all of that," Luka countered in all seriousness. "That's not what I'm asking. What about the meeting? Who shall go there?"

Mario sneered, shaking his head again. "I'll go and fucking drag him back if necessary."

"No, no - we don't need that. If he can't stay with us for now, if he can't be in Zagreb, and especially if he really is in danger."

 "I still want to go." The look in his eyes was decisive and firm enough to assure Luka that he really means that.

 "Okay. And - ?"

Domagoj reached for Mario's hand, grasping it firmly. "I'll go with him."

"Are you two sure?"

Luka actually believed that sending Mario with Vida - as well as Dejan with Šime - was better than making up new partnerships. They all worked better with the closest members of the resistance, and there was a certain mutual amount of will to protect their partners at any cost, which seemed to be a good strategy. "Be careful, alright? Don't get in troubles. Nikola knows the drill, it should be a casual and quiet meeting, seemingly random and unplanned. One of you will talk to him, the other one will stand on guard, understood? Make it appear like nothing is happening at all. Don't attract any attention. He should tell you what the problem is." They were both watching Modrić with a respect their leader deserved, hanging on his every word. "Get the most information you can from him. Specifically the names of the people he's been seeing lately. If he can't be with us for now, we still need them. And please - Mario, you do the talking."

Mario nodded, feeling proud to gain such confidence from Luka himself.

 "That should be it." Luka took a deep breath as a sign that this subject is over. "Oh - if it's true and the police are after Kalinić because of his contacts with the workers from the factories, Šime could be the next target."

Lovren wrapped his arm around the curly-headed one's waist even tighter.

"Dej, I want you to protect him. Take care of him. And I don't mean it as tucking him in bed in the evening. Make sure he's safe at all times, alright?"

Dejan would laugh if Modrić didn't sound so dead serious.

 

 

 

The sun was shining on Saturday afternoon, as Mario and Domagoj walked towards the meeting place. Mandžukić hasn't stopped talking about Nikola's stupidity since the morning, and he smoked one cigarette after another to "calm himself", which apparently didn't work well. 

 "Remember what Luka said - I do the talking. You can sit on a bench and wait for me, okay?" he said and squeezed the back of Domo's neck. "Don't ruin this. I'm gonna tear that motherfucker apart - "

"Keep it cool. _Remember what Luka said_ ," Vida replied. 

The park was very lively, in some parts even crowded with people who wanted to enjoy an afternoon stroll outside and Mario was thankful Nikola was at least sensible enough to meet at this place. It won't be suspicious to stop by him to say a few words, he can pretend he needs a light if necessary, that was the most obvious yet effective way of staring a quiet and unnoticeable conversation.

"Sit here," Mandžo nodded toward one of the benches by the side of the path. "You'll have a good view. _To keep an eye on me_. Though it should be the other way round."

Domagoj chuckled and looked around. Nothing suspicious was to be seen. "Say hello to him for me."

"Sure." Mario patted his shoulder and took a deep breath as he walked away, towards the gazebo.

He walked slowly, taking his time to watch the people around if he can notice anything strange about them. Everything seemed absolutely normal, as on any other sunny afternoon in any other park. 

Then, he finally noticed the man of interest, Kalinić was standing at the, leaning against one of the columns with hands in his pocket and just seeing him standing there this casually angered Mario to no end because, in his mind, this selfish bitch deserved a punch in the face to be reminded of the values and importance of following the rules. Nikola spotted him and without batting an eyelid he took his hands out of his pockets and ran down the three stairs to wait for Mario, who hesitated for a moment. He hoped they would play the old scene of two total strangers, one of them needing a light or something, and not meet up like old friends. Was Nikola really that dumb?

 Nikola walked up to him, and with each step, the strange feeling of something fishy going on grew in Mario's heart. Kalinić touched his arm in a friendly gesture, greeting him. "I'm so glad you could come here."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed quietly, fighting the urge to push him away. "Who's after you? Where are they? What's with your brother?"

 "I'll tell you everything - "

"Where have you been the whole time? Why couldn't you say anything to anyone?" he spat in his face, still keeping his voice low. Just now he realized that Nikola was still squeezing his forearm forcefully with one hand as if to keep him in place.

That was when it all started to make sense.

His eyes darted around and he noticed two men rushing towards them - a red light went off immediately in his mind and he turned his head to look the other way - one, _two_ , _three_ man got up from the benches they've been sitting at and reaching under their coats in an almost synchronized manner, they hurried towards them - Mario jerked his arm to get out of Nikola's grip while looking back at the first two men who were already running before -

\- before he felt the barrel of a gun press against his ribs.

"I'm sorry, Mandžo."


	5. Chapter 5

Ivan sensed that something was wrong as soon as he entered the room. There was no talking, no muffled sound, no groups formed around the table and the armchairs - 

Then he saw it. Domagoj sitting in one of the chairs with a blanket thrown around his shoulders, sobbing desperately as Danijel was massaging his shoulders comfortingly, whispering some soothing words to which Domo's only response was even more painful choking breath

" _It's okay, it's okay - we're here for you_  - "

"What's wrong?" Ivan asked, coming closer with caution. At first, he thought Domagoj might be injured but there was no blood and no bandages.

They all turned their faces to him - one after another betrayed an inner pain, desperation, and helplessness. Even Dalić, the always present spirit of old times when everything used to make sense, looked at him with a sense of terrible sadness in his eyes.

"It's Mario," he said quietly with a look that didn't allow him to ask more.

_Mario..._

He wasn't there. And looking at the state Domagoj was in, it was hard to expect he will ever be again.

Ivan crossed himself, closing his eyes, trying to compose his feelings and emotions. His eyes were looking desperately for someone who might tell him the whole story - and it was no one else than Luka whose eyes met his.

He took him to the other room, leaving Vida and the other guys behind.

"Mario?" he breathed out as soon as Luka closed the door.

"He's dead."

Ivan expected a scream, and tears that would rise in his eyes upon hearing those words - but there was nothing, his throat was dry and clenched so much he couldn't say a word but Luka seemed to understand his state, because he took his hand and continued in a voice that was so forcefully steady it hurt Ivan's heart more than anything.

"That fucking rat Kalinić - " he spat out, pressing Ivan's arm unintentionally. "It was all a set-up. He had some guards there with him - and they surrounded Mario and - " He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

"Luka, please - " Ivan touched his burning cheek, making him look up. His eyes were full of tears that just wouldn't come out.

"Domagoj had no chance to help him - they were outnumbered and Mario - he shot himself. In the head. Domo saw it all and - he can't - " Luka let out an ugly sob, finally letting the emotions out; his sobbing became almost hysterical in a manner that Ivan would never expect from him, usually so calm and composed, even in nerves-drenching situations.

 "We could have helped Mario - get him out or something - " Ivan whispered in disbelief. 

"No, not really. Mario knew the drill. He was so precise in this. Look what they made Kalinić do. If they got Mario, they would get even more information - "

"Mandžo would never betray us like a fucking rat - "

"Do you believe that?" Luka grabbed him by shoulders, shaking him from side to side. "Wake up from your ideal world, Raketa - do you actually think you can survive the torture, the pain, without saying a word? It's not worth risking it. We all know this. It's better to not get in their hands at all. Mario did the best he could."

"Mario was a good person - "

"It's not about being a good person, for God's sake. It has nothing to do with being anything - you can never know how you would react. Or what would you say, to save your family or your loved ones? Or yourself. Your own bloody life. Anything that's dear to you. What do you think Mario would do if they brought him Vida in chains, bloodied and hurt, with broken limbs, crying and desperate - Think what you would do if they did the same to me. Think about Dejan and Šime. They're all good guys, and I don't doubt their honesty for a single second. But you don't know what people can do under such pressure."

Rakitić shook his head, unable to believe such harsh words from Luka. "We could have saved him," he repeated firmly, sure of his own truth.

 "No," Luka said, looking him straight into the eyes. "We couldn't."

 

 

Domagoj’s place was much colder and emptier than Ivan remembered; it looked as if nobody was living there at all. The kitchen counter seemed to be untouched for a very long time, the beds looked unused and the overall atmosphere of the small and otherwise cozy apartment was chilly and scary. The soul of the place was definitely gone, though something remained there – and that something was sitting there in form of Domagoj himself, crouched in one of the chairs, wrapped in a blanket and with a mug of fuming tea on the table in front of him. He was scratching something into a small notebook on his knee, moving the pen hastily, not paying attention to the people that were gathering around the table, arriving one after another.

Most of the guys were already there, talking quietly in twos, but Luka and Zlatko were still missing and nobody else seemed to have the authority to start an official discussion. Ivan poured himself some wine and checked Domagoj again – he was still writing in his little black notebook and Ivan just now noticed his trembling lips and a lonely teardrop that fell down to the paper – he made a decisive step towards him but Danijel stopped him.

“Leave him alone now,” he said calmly, holding Ivan by his elbow. “Don’t make it worse.”

Seeing Domagoj like this, without life, without his signature sparkle in the eyes, pained him so much he had to turn his head away – just in time to see Luka coming into the room. His face was gloomed, eyebrows furrowed as he was lost deep in his thoughts  _again_ , and he frowned instead of greeting. “Domo?”

Vida jerked his head, blinking fast as looked up.

“I told all of you to not write a single damn thing – and to destroy every single message you receive – not to start writing a fucking journal – “

“Please, leave him be – “ Danijel tried to soothe him in the same manner as Ivan before but Luka stopped him with a simple gesture of his hand.

“We can’t afford any missteps now!”

It was quiet in the room all of sudden. Everyone was watching Luka with caution.

“Give me that,” he gestured towards the notebook in Domagoj’s hand and Vida did, looking to the ground.

His messy handwriting was smeared at some places by the fallen tears.

 

_I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you I love you I miss you_

 

Luka handed him the journal back without saying a word and Domagoj burst into silent tears, hiding his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Luka mumbled numbly, watching Danijel sitting by Domo's side and hug his friend. Ivan grabbed Luka by the hand and dragged him away from the heartbreaking scene.

"Why are you so harsh on him?" he snapped, trying to keep his voice low so nobody could hear him. " _Now_?"

 Luka shook his head and started massaging his nose bridge between two fingers.

"Luka! This kid is on the verge of a mental breakdown and you make us all meet at his place, in his apartment, just to shout at him? After all he's been through?"

 "What do you suggest?" Luka hissed, throwing his hands in the air. "Send him home, to his parents? How will he explain what's he been doing in here the whole time? You said it yourself - we once made a pledge. There's no way back."

"He saw Mario shoot the brain out of his head, for God's sake!" They were being too loud, Ivan realized as there was no other sound than their voices to be heard. He pushed Luka further, through the door to the bedroom and closed it behind them. 

 Luka shook the hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms on chest. "What do you want me to do then? I'm sorry about Mario. I'm sorry about Čarli  - I'm sorry about everything. I just don't have this need to cry out loud and let everyone see just how bad the times are."

"It's not your fault - and it's not Domo's fault either! I know, I know that you both deal with this loss in your own ways but please,  _please_  - don't be mad at Domagoj for showing emotions. We're not robots. We're only humans, we can't do the impossible. Let him cry all he wants, let him get the pain out - let him be himself. That's what we're fighting for, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Luka stressed. "But if he can't take it, he can't stay with us."

"He can! He's been through this all with us, we can't cut him off now! He can stay in the hideout - we can't let him go now. The streets can be dangerous - you yourself have said we can't be sure how much they know because of Kalinić - He has nowhere to go - we need to stay together. All of us. At least for the first two or three days. That's how we planned it. The hideout in the crypt of the church - it's perfect for him. He'll be safe there. Safer than if we let him roam the streets and...I don't know, do something stupid."

Luka's senses were all alarmed in a second. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know - one-man attack on the police central? Isn't that exactly the kind of thing he could do? Anyone, _anyone_ \- " he stressed, " - in this situation would think like that. Revenging the dead. Putting their own life in danger just to do something, no matter how dangerous - Luka, it will be better for everyone if he stays with us. You can't just cut him off and let him be on his own. We're his family now."

"I would have never guessed we'll have to look after him," Luka said quietly. "It was always Mario's job." The emotionless words were said in a terrifyingly sad tone Ivan wouldn't guess belonged to Luka. He knew, as well as everyone else, that Luka really loved Domo, though Domo was always the first one he would scold, no matter the reason; it was almost like a relationship of two siblings - as if Vida was his younger brother, the annoying younger brother who makes his life hell but he would always love him immensely.

There was a sign of helpless desperation in Luka's eyes. Everything was improvised these days. Everything was going too fast by now. Their whole plan - it had to be rushed. They needed to make sure Kalinić won't be faster than them. They needed to take care of Domagoj. They needed to contact their people in other cities to make sure they're ready, with all the guns and ammunition and vehicles they would need, with enough people and telephones and passion and zeal to react when the time is right.

When the dictator is dead.

And that was the job for Vrsaljko.

 

 

The next day, they all gathered in the crypt of the said church that was in the middle of the city yet unobtrusive, small and quiet in these times. Dalić knew the local priest from long before the coup d'état and it was not difficult to make him cooperate with the resistance movement since he, as a devout Christian, had a strong understanding for what is right and what is wrong- _and that an assassination of a tyrant is not a sin_.

 Only Šime and Dejan were missing since they had a different job for that day.

Luka Modrić has negotiated the terms of their hideout in the church - they would be staying in the crypt, hidden from the world, giving instruction through the phone in the rectory if necessary. That would be their headquarters. Some people whom the priest has known for a very long time and whom he found reliable would bring some food every day, with the excuse that it's for the nearby orphanage.

It was all well planned, in the end, mostly thanks to Dalić and Modrić.

The most important thing was still to be done - to actually give a signal to the uprising to start.

 

 

"You're the most beautiful assassin I have ever seen."

The truth was, Lovren could never take his eyes off Vrsaljko - it was always hard for him, but now, as Šime held his machine gun, inspecting it from all different angles, he really had the aura of a mysterious stranger which made him hundred times more beautiful in Dejan's eyes.

"You were supposed to not make fun of it," Šime answered, dismantling the gun in a matter of seconds to place it in his briefcase.

It was hard with Dejan's hands roaming his body from behind as Lovren came closer and placed his chin on his shoulder, resting it there, looking at the work his hands were carefully doing with the gun.

"I'm not making fun of anything," he mumbled, pressing his nose against the back of Šime's neck. "You can shoot me anytime."

Vrsaljko turned around, pushing him away. "I don't understand how Luka hasn't expelled you from our group yet."

"You wouldn't let him, would you?"

"I'm not the one giving orders - "

"But you can order me anything."

"Then, please, " he said, shaking Dejan's hands off of himself, "be so kind and go see the others to the crypt."

"That's not an order, sir," Dejan smiled, trying to reach Šime's curly hair but he yanked away.

"Dej. I'm serious. _I mean it_. Join them. Alright? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'm older than you, you know?" Lovren protested. "I should be the one with the big gun, changing history."

"I order you - " Šime raised his voice, trying his best to sound persuasive. " - to go to that damned church and hide your ass in there. I'll come there when everything's done and if I won't find you I swear I will kill you."

It didn't even make sense but Lovren got the grip.

 He knew exactly what to do and how to behave - and how to _not behave_ \- but he couldn't restrain from stupidly joking around, acting like an idiot and not wanting to leave. It was hard to listen to Šime, as his superior, and do what he's been told because...

... _because it could easily be the last time he sees him_.

Because the situation with Mario and Domagoj reminded him just how thin the line they were living on was.

Because he couldn't bear the thought of Šime _not being there_ with him. It was easier to cover this insecurity with silly jokes and pretend like it's nothing.

But at the moment they were supposed to say goodbye, he saw this same hesitancy in Šime's eyes.

"For God's sake, ljubavi," he exhaled, forgetting all the lighthearted banter they just had as he hastily pressed Šime close. "Just come back to me, okay?"


End file.
